


a thousand sweet kisses

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman and Robin Eternal (Comics), Catwoman (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Gotham Girl Gang, honestly what fandom does this even go in is there one for general batfam, it's not specifically based in any one canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:33:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7583365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Gotham Girl Gang is gay, in love, and mildly obsessed with Rent.</p>
<p>(Three short scenes featuring our girls being adorable dorks.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	a thousand sweet kisses

**Author's Note:**

> More or less New 52/Rebirth canon compliant, except Cass is Black Bat and Selina and Eiko are (implied to be) still together
> 
> canon is a giant messy mess anyway, so I do what I want

“I languish in the space between your ribs,” Steph murmurs, nose pressed to Harper’s shoulder, slumped into her in exhaustion. There’s a sharp kind of softness to her words, a confession in the furrowing of her brow. “I time my breath to the beat of your heart but there isn’t enough oxygen in the world to replenish what the force of my love has stolen away.”

“If I was gonna reply to that, could I quote _Rent_ at you, or would I have to write my own sappy poetry?” Harper asks. The line of her shoulders stiffens defensively, her words too soft and sincere to be as nonchalant or teasing as she’d wanted them to be.  


Over Steph’s shoulder-shaking-laughter silence, Cass tells her, “Too long since we watched that.”

Harper cracks an eye—there’s a smile at the corners of her lips and a rumble of laughter under her voice when she responds, “We watched _Rent_ last week.”

“We watched the movie, not the Broadway recording,” Steph murmurs. She curls in closer to Harper, and Harper moves to accommodate her without consciously deciding to.

(Cass presses her way into inclusion, legs over Harper’s and leaning into Steph’s thighs where they’re curled one atop the other. Harper and Steph both shift for her, unthinking, and Cass smiles the smile that she’s earmarked for the two of them.)

“We should watch _Wicked_ ,” Harper tries, arm curling around Steph’s shoulders as Steph shimmies a little lower, tucks her head into Harper’s chest. (Her other hand curls loosely around Cass’s ankle, thumb rubbing soft-smooth-mine circles over the knob of the bone.)

Cass makes a noise of disagreement, and Steph mumbles her own, “ _Rent_ is our go-to,” of disgruntlement.

“That’s why we should mix it up!”

Cass hums a little bit of _I’ll Cover You_ , and Harper reaches for her laptop in defeat—bemused-fond-approval in her eyes as she points out, “Steph, baby, you’re not even gonna be awake by the time Angel sings about killing Evita.”

“Wake me up for _La Vie Bohem_ ,” Steph mumbles back.

***

“Something’s different about you,” Steph says, heels tapping against brick as she sits on the roof over the alleyway. Below her, Catwoman tilts her head to the side—

“Long time, no see, Blondie,” she says, casual.

She plays it off well, but Cass knows she was startled and that makes a little bloom of pride in Steph press pleasantly against the inside of her ribs. “Something’s not right,” Cass agrees, stepping just enough out of the shadows for the Cat to see her when her head turns and her eyes narrow behind their orange lenses.

“She’s not the one who just got out of jail, is she?” Harper says thoughtfully, sauntering around the corner. (There’s no surprise at her appearance in the line of Catwoman’s shoulders, but then—the three of them are almost always a package deal these days.)

“Nope!” Steph says, frowning—and Catwoman makes a little noise, defensive-pride-insult in the way she stops looking for escape routes and instead glares up at Spoiler. Steph leans forward, squinting, then laughs and snaps her fingers. “Oh, no, she is! Hey, Selina.” She takes a deep breath, and (despite the laughter about to bubble up) she manages to remain deadpan when she sings, “I didn’t recognize you without the handcuffs.”

Harper cackles, and Cass sends Steph a thumbs up; she’d go for a high five, but Catwoman has seen her escape route- not the one they left tantalizingly open, but the one that looked like a mistake- and she’s leaping into action.

Avoid the whip—

Avoid the kick—

Two hits: sternum and side of knee, not enough to injure but enough to drop—

“Not yours to keep,” she admonishes, relieving Catwoman of the pouch tucked up her sleeve. She waves it in her face, clucking the way Alfred does when the boys leave trash all over the living room after a night of videogames, and Selina huffs.

“Aw, but baby, if he didn’t want me to have it, he’d have put it in a nicer safe,” she wheezes, legs and back tensing—press up, wrap around waist, twist to throw her off balance?

Doesn’t matter; Harper clicks her taser threateningly.

“I wouldn’t, Ms. Kyle,” she says, polite-regret-respect as she lifts her shoulders towards her ears. (Sometimes Selina and Eiko still look at Steph like a misguided-but-lovable eldest kitten, and sometimes Steph still looks at them like embarrassing-but-winsome mothers—Harper tries to stay on their good sides.)

“At least Stephanie will be able to recognize you again,” Cass tells Selina, fake-honey-sweet (because sometimes the Cats don’t see Steph as family at all).

***

“Steph,” Harper says, frank and serious in tone but with laughter waiting to explode from her shoulders. “You cannot wear that to the Manor Christmas party.”

Steph puts her hand on her hips, on red fake-velvet and just below the patent leather belt, then sticks one leg out, squinty-eye considering the zebra print leggings. “Can’t I?”

“She has to,” Cass says firmly, and tugs a beanie down over Harper’s hair and ears. “You’re going to be Tom Collins.”

“And we made Tim dress up as Mark!” Steph adds with relish, a predatory grin stealing across her face. (Cass likes that grin, all sharp teeth and confidence.) Steph flicks her hair back over her shoulder and snickers out, “He really fits the part, doesn’t he?”

“Camera-wielding and pretentious,” Cass recites dutifully.

Harper snorts, adjusting the beanie, and she’s all fond-eye-rolls and gentle-fingers as she reaches for Cass’s hips. There’s blue spandex under her palms, and it warms immediately. “Mimi, I’m guessing?”

“My favorite.” Cass stretches to her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to Harper’s lips (just off to the side, right at the corner where Harper’s smiles hide, and a blush spreads across both of their cheeks; Steph wolf-whistles).

Steph slings an arm around their shoulders, ducking in to leave sticky lipstick marks on each of their cheeks—she’ll insist on reapplying before they leave, Cass knows, but in the meantime she grins at her handiwork with no regrets. “I languish in the space between your ribs,” she tells them, “and even as my lungs burn, there is no place I would rather be.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know steph's reciting random self-written poetry should probably have a little more explanation but I am lazy


End file.
